Cold
by Threshie
Summary: Suddenly the arm around him wasn't Guimel'sthe face pressed into his shoulder wasn't there for anything as innocent as warmth. Stop, stop it! Dalet shouted silently at himself, forcing the memories out of his mind.


**Cold**Started 8/6/2004, Ended 1/3/2005

By Threshie

**AN:** I do not own Escaflowne. I'm aware that most of the Esca fandom interprets Dalet as being vain, and so you might take my portrayal of him as out of character, but I find more evidence in the actual material that he's an unhappy character than I do that he's a vain and selfish one. I'm just following my own interpretation, here, instead of going with the fandom flow (which sometimes CoughGW fandomcough can be very much the opposite of what the creators intended.) Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy the fic! I hope you'll review, but I'd be honored if you even just read it through to the end. Thank you. )

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Pure stillness.

The moonlight glistened on the surface of the snow like diamonds. Icy wind slipped over the smooth white land, needling the face of the young man who sat peering out of his tent. He shivered, dropping the doorflap down to bar the night air's entrance. The country of Chale was so different at night, so much more peaceful. When the brunette and his fellow Dragon Slayers had arrived there the day before, the country had been in the midst of a battle so violent that the plains were stained crimson.

But, then, Chale was war-torn because of Zaibach.

Dalet sighed, glancing a bit enviously at the other three boys in the tent. Migel, Guimel and Gatti slept huddled together for warmth beneath the single thick grey blanket each tent was issued. There was room for him, too, and the others had offered to let him join them, but that was an offer the brunette couldn't have accepted. It wasn't that he was comfortable where he was-the grey blanket looked like the most inviting thing he could think of at the moment. But he knew the other boys too well...

It wouldn't have been so bad to sleep under his own separated corner of the blanket, but he knew from the huddle that the others would all press against him for warmth if he lay down anywhere near them. And Guimel...Guimel had a notorious habit of snuggling with whoever was within arm's reach when he was sleeping. It didn't seem to be intentional-he barely ever knew what the others were talking about when they mentioned it to him in the daytime-but it most certainly was the bane of Dalet's restful sleep.

He couldn't sleep with people pressed against him so closely-he wasn't even comfortable enough with it to lay there awake so that he wasn't cold. Another chill wind blew outside, and Dalet wrapped his arms around himself for warmth when part of the gust sneaked beneath the doorflap.

_I wonder how long we'll be stationed here?_ He thought dully, staring at the tent flap. _I wonder if I'll freeze to death before anybody even threatens my life in battle..._ A loud crunch from outside broke his train of thought. Gatti stirred at the sound, too-he'd always been a light sleeper, and when he was in charge he slept badly in addition.

Sitting up in bed, he looked at Dalet and asked in a whisper, "What was that?" Dalet frowned and didn't answer. Uneasily, he reached up to pull the doorflap aside. Another chill breeze blew through the night, flickering the torches of Chalens deathly close.

"Ambush!" The alarm was cried by the two boys who made up the night watch in unison, just as Dalet hissed the same word to Gatti. The blonde's blue eyes narrowed...and a heartbeat later, everything had erupted into chaos. Dalet found himself running through knee-high drifts of snow, fending off Chalens at every step with his katana.

Besides the two watchmen, the other Dragon Slayers had no armor on, as they had been sleeping. Their katanas were, of course, within easy reach, but the bitter cold made it all the more difficult to fight the fully armored Chalens, who were used to such temperatures.

All around him, Dalet heard cries of pain and shouts of anger, the clash of katanas against the more primitive Chalen weapons, and the crunching of feet—boot bare and booted—in the frozen-over snow. Slicing and parrying blows, the brunette slew a hulk of a man who had rushed thoughtlessly for him with no thought of defense. His amethyst eyes darted about, watching for any other attack to ward off.

The unique swish of a Crima Claw's liquid metal base sounded behind him. A quick glance showed that at five or six of the Dragon Slayers had managed to reach their Guymelefs. Chalens scattered, screaming, as the enormous blue machines bore down upon them and tossed handfuls of men into the air. The flood, however, only paused a moment before charging forward once more. Dalet was so shocked to see the Chalen natives swarm over and up the legs of the 'melefs like insects that he almost got mowed down by one of those natives who came at him from behind.

Whirling, he barely leaned away from the blow fast enough, and even then it swished by so closely as to take with it a lock of his longish brown hair. His new opponent was a tall, slender man, impossibly thin, with scraggly black hair that whirled formlessly about his face as he hacked at the brunette with fatal intent.

Being attacked from behind had always made Dalet angry—it was as if his opponent were too weak to win any other way but by hitting him while he wasn't expecting it. What kind of way was that to fight? _A desperate way,_ he thought, slamming his katana's shining blade against the dull and nicked one the man wielded. _Sorry, that's not how to beat an elite Dragon Slayer—no man of Dilandau-sama's will die by a dirty blow!_

Three slashes later, his desperate opponent was no more. Wordlessly, Dalet turned away from the bloody form that lay there crumpled on the snow. There was no time to think about whether it had been right to kill someone only desperate for their own survival—at the moment, he and his unit were fighting to survive, themselves, and soldiers were not supposed to think anyhow.

A familiar voice crying out in pain came from far off to his left. Whirling, the brunette felt a strange blend of horror and fury as he sighted a huge, burly Chalen man piercing Guimel's shoulder with his battered spear. A slightly smaller man had gotten hold of the Dragon Slayer's arms and twisted them behind his back, holding him there.

If the desperate man's attempted blow to Dalet had been dirty, this method was far more so.

Dashing up while the sadistic two were preoccupied with stabbing his friend a second time—and in the shoulder again, nowhere vital—Dalet dispatched the one with the spear with a furious downward slice where his shoulder met his neck. The second man immediately dropped Guimel, reaching for his fallen comrade's spear, but Dalet was upon him too quickly, delivering two rapid stabs to the arms before deftly slitting his throat.

Before the second body even hit the ground, the brunette was at his friend's side. _They only got his shoulder…he'll live, if we can just stop this bleeding._

"Guimel? Can you hear me?"

The cream-haired boy's pale green eyes fluttered open, and he blinked at Dalet, then smiled faintly. "D-Dalet….you s-s-saved me…" His voice was faint and trembled from the cold and the pain of his wound. The spear had been wrenched out by the grip its dead owner had upon it as he fell to the ground, and now the wound was bleeding so rapidly that the snow around Guimel bloomed in a spreading crimson stain.

_Dammit, he won't last long bleeding this much! I need to bandage—_The thought was abruptly interrupted, as a volley of arrows whizzed by overhead. Dalet threw himself to the snowy ground, shielding Guimel as best he could. When the arrows has passed, he braced himself and snagging Guimel's left arm—it was his right shoulder that had been stabbed—crawling through the snow on his belly and dragging the fluffy-haired Slayer along.

Guimel gave a little whimper at being dragged along across his injury in the snow, but for the most part he seemed too numbed by the cold and blood loss to feel it much. Dalet kept them low to the ground, knowing that if he sat up he would likely immediately be filled with arrows. By some stroke of fate, the brunette crawled over a slight dip in the snow—and abruptly he found Guimel and himself down at least four feet below the ground level. It was a cave!

In the tightly enclosed place, both boys' breathing echoed, seeming harsher than it really was. Guimel was now taking short, quick breaths—it seemed inhaling fully agitated his shoulder. Squinting, Dalet peered off into the dark and saw endless blackness.

"This cave goes pretty deep-we should be safe here until the attack is over," Dalet said, voice echoing repeatedly in the tight space.

"D-Dalet..." Guimel's voice trembled worse than before, as he whispered, "It won't...st-stop bleeding..."

_Damn…I need to bandage that now, or he might not...d-don't even think that! But he might've already lost too much blood…_

"H-hang in there," the brunette reassured his friend, the cold sneaking a tremor into his own voice. He hurriedly crawled away from the entrance to the cave, dragging his friend with him. As gently as he could, he felt in the dark for Guimel's shirt collar and peeled the fabric away. _He's wounded-you can't let your personal problems get in the way right now,_ he told himself fiercely, as his hands began to shake. Wet warmth clung to his fingers when they found his friend's shoulder.

He hated to rip up Guimel's shirt, as it was freezing cold, but there was nothing else to use as bandages. Stopping the bleeding was more important than comfort right now; he tore the shirt into strips and did his best to bandage the other boy's shoulder by feel. The spear had gone right through his shoulder, and Dalet could only imagine what agony such a large hole there could cause.

_This is only makeshift,_ he reminded himself, _Once we get to some medical supplies, it's going to need to be treated with disinfectant-who knows where the weapons of those ragged rebels have been?_

"D-D-Dilandau-sama...won't...b-be happy...with me..." Guimel sounded more upset about this probability than his condition. Dalet knew how he felt-if it would make Dilandau happy, they'd die for him. Unfortunately, when they got themselves injured it usually just provoked his wrath at their 'incompetence'. Dale had long ago realized that getting angry at them when they were near death was probably Dilandau's way of disguising the fact that he'd actually been worried for their safety...but it still stung to be reprimanded for your loyalty by the very person you served.

"No...he probably won't," he finally answered, tying the makeshift bandages tightly. Guimel made no sound, but the tight strips of cloth around his right shoulder couldn't have made his wound feel any better. Now that it had pressure on it, Dalet knew the injury would stop bleeding. Guimel's life was not immediately in danger anymore. Unfortunately, he was now also without a shirt, which was dangerous unto itself in such a frozen place.

"Th-th-thanks," the cream-haired boy chattered out, and Dalet could almost see his easy smile. No matter what the situation, Guimel was always such an optimist...sometimes he was hard to be around, since everything seemed good to him when to Dalet the world seemed so cruel. _Looks like the impossible happened tonight-he's the one wounded, while I'm fine._ "D...Dalet...?" Guimel asked worriedly"A-a-are you...okay?"

"I'm fine," the brunette answered, surprised. _He's the one injured and freezing and he's worried about ME?_

"I-I don't th-th-think b...being this c-c-cold...is g-good for me..." _Please don't,_ Dalet trembled, _I know it's selfish, but please don't ask to huddle..._ There was a rustling noise, breaking the brunette's train of thought.

He heard Guimel wincing, and asked concernedly, "What are you doing?" _If only I could see in here..._

"C...c-curling...up..." Guimel sounded like he was in a good deal of pain, and also a little further away from Dalet. "I...know I...sh-shouldn't move, but...I-I'm so c-c...cold..." _He's hurting himself worse because your personal problems are making you hesitant to help him,_ Dalet told himself rather accusingly. A part of him was reluctant, reluctant to help or touch or be near anybody...but another part of him, the one who cared about his friends, shouted that he ought to be ashamed of himself. _Guimel means no harm, and you know it!_

He bit his lip, peering into the darkness worriedly. _He'd do it in a heartbeat if you were the one injured..._ Steeling himself, the brunette reached out and felt in the dark until his hand landed on Guimel's soft hair. The other boy made a tiny pained sound, something akin to a whimper, and shivered. Sighing, Dalet crawled over and rather gingerly wrapped his arms around his friend. _He's ice-cold...if he stays this cold, he'll die of exposure!_

"Wh-what're you..."

"I'm trying to warm you up," Dalet explained, his own voice trembling a little. He wasn't sure if it was just the cold this time... There was a wince as Guimel turned over to face him, and Dalet tried his best not to flinch as the other boy wrapped his good arm around his waist and buried his face in Dalet's shoulder.

"Th-th-thanks," Guimel's whisper was muffled by the brunette's uniform jacket, but sounded heartfelt. He was shaking badly, and Dalet told himself repeatedly that he was just holding him so tightly because he was cold. But memories and images seeped into his mind, memories of things that had happened in blackness, too, and a wave of panic washed over Dalet.

Suddenly the arm around his shoulders wasn't Guimel's-the face pressed into his shoulder wasn't there for anything as innocent as warmth. _Stop, stop it!_ Dalet shouted silently at himself, forcing the memories out of his mind. Already, he could feel his heart pounding rapidly and he was shaking almost as badly as Guimel now.

"

please" he closed his eyes, trying not to sound as panicked as he was, "Don't...h-hold me so tight."

"I'm s-s-sorry," Dalet shuddered as the words were breathed against his neck. "I-I'm just...s-so cold..."

"I'm cold, t-too," Dalet sighed, "B-but I can't...d-don't hold me so tight. Please..." _He's not doing it on purpose,_ he knew, _But I can't...I just can't take it..._

"D-Dalet...I-I could...d-die, here..." There was a trace of hurt in Guimel's voice that the brunette knew wasn't the fault of his wound. "C...can't you...s-stop being s-s-so uptight...j-just once? I-I don't...even h-have a sh-sh-shirt on..." Dalet knew he was right-it was cruel and selfish to deny his friend the warmth he so desperately needed just because _he_ had a problem with physical contact.

"Y-you're right, Guimel...I'm sorry," he breathed, placing a hand lightly atop the other's fluffy head. "I...I didn't mean it like that," he continued, his voice shaking a little-he'd never told what he was about to say to anyone. "I'm...I-I guess I'm...not all that comfortable w-with touching people...and having them touch me."

"L-l-look, I d-didn't want t-to invade your p...personal space," Guimel replied in a shaking, rather wounded voice, "B-b-but I'm...i-if you d-don't help me, I'm g-g-gonna die…"

"D-don't say that—nobody's going to die except those Chalens out there." Dalet closed his eyes, resolving things in his mind. _Maybe if you just explained..._ He sighed. There was no way that Guimel could understand how he felt from just a summery, but he hated how the other boy was probably thinking of him now-selfish, cruel. Not much of a friend, that was for sure... "Guimel?"

He felt the other boy sigh softly into his shirt, before he heard an unhappy whisper, "Y-Yeah...?" Dalet nearly cringed at the tone. _He's in danger of dying and I'm acting like such a jerk..._ He sighed, pulling Guimel closer and tucking his fluffy head beneath his chin.

"I wish I wasn't this way...I'm sorry, I-I'm not very good at this whole friendship thing..."

"Dalet..." Guimel sounded a bit guilty now. "Look, I didn't mean..."

"No, it's okay," Dalet smiled faintly, smoothing the other's cream-colored hair, "You're right-I'm being horribly unreasonable about this situation, and I'm sorry. Can...you keep a secret?"

"S-secret?" Guimel asked, curiosity getting the better of his brief bout with unhappiness. It was hard for an optimist to stay upset, really...

Dalet sighed, "Yes...if you promise not to tell anybody, I'll tell you something...that I've never told anybody else before."

"I-I won't tell anybody," Guimel promised. "W-well..." He paused, "Except for D-Dilandau-sama, but th-then only if he orders m-m-me to directly..."

"Dilandau-sama wouldn't think to ask about this," Dalet sighed, "And I'll bet he wouldn't care, anyway."

Curious again, Guimel asked expectantly, "So...what is it?"

"You...promised not to tell, right?" Dalet asked hesitantly. _I've never told anybody-what if he's horrified he ever even touched me? Maybe I shouldn't..._

"I swear," Guimel reassured him, shivering a little. "I-I wish I still h-h-had my shirt," he sighed, "M-my back's fr-r-reezing..." Giving any bad memories a firm warning not to surface, Dalet shifted both arms so that they covered more of the other boy's bare back. "Th-thank you..." Guimel paused, then murmured softly, "So, about this secret..." Dalet sighed; no escaping telling him now that he'd mentioned it. _You shouldn't have ever brought it up,_ he told himself in panicked annoyance, _You and your stupid conscience..._

"It's not easy for me to talk about," he tried to explain, rubbing his friend's back when he felt him shiver again. _This uniform is leather,_ he thought, feeling that same reluctance from before tugging at him. _If I took the jacket part off, we could use it as a blanket...or..._ "Guimel, l-let go of me a second." He removed his arms, feeling for the zipper to his uniform jacket.

"Wh-wh-what're you...d-doing?" Guimel asked a bit plaintively, teeth chattering once again.

"It's okay, I'm not letting you freeze..." Dalet winced at the chill air that nipped at his skin as soon as he slid the jacket off. _Guimel's been sitting shirtless and injured in this temperature, _he realized. _Well, I feel like even more of a jerk now..._ He felt around until his hand caught the other boy's good arm, and he carefully draped the jacket over his friend's shoulders, shivering himself.

"D-Dalet, wh-wh-what're you...?" Feeling the garment, Guimel protested, "No, I can't let you do this...h-here, take it back."

"Y-you need it m-m-more than m-me," Dalet sighed, wrapping his arms around him again.

"B-but you'll freeze!" Guimel's voice was muffled a bit by the brunette's shoulder. "D-Dalet..."

"I-I'm not i-injured," Dalet explained, now trembling, himself, from the icy stone floor that pressed into his side as well as the bone-chilling air temperature. He felt as well as heard Guimel wince against his shoulder, as the cream-haired boy lifted his right arm with the other hand, placing it across Dalet's shoulders with some difficulty. "Y-y-you sh-shouldn't move...t-too much," the brunette shivered, "I-it'll...s-start bleeding again."

"Y-yes, but I...can't let you freeze...Dalet..." He winced a little, "Y-you wouldn't…l-let _me_ die….a-and I won't…..let you…"

Much as Dalet appreciated the idea, having arms around him again was once more summoning up unpleasant memories. He could almost hear the voices whispering to him in the dark, hot breath on his neck, unseen hands roaming… _C-cut it out!_ Images flashed through his mind, now, faces from another lifetime that haunted him even now. One of them was a tall, dark-haired man with a crooked smirk. The sight of that mouth immediately summoned forth how his kisses had felt.

Panic surged through Dalet, and he struggled free of Guimel's arms, rolling over so that his back was to the other boy. He could hear his friend wince in pain at the sudden movement of his injured shoulder, and the part of him in the present felt badly for it, but the part of him that was still in the past…

He curled into a tight ball, pressing his hands over his face in an effort to stop the flow of memories. They weren't supposed to still be there—that part of his life had ended when Dilandau had chosen him for a Dragon Slayer—but sometimes they would return, as if to hurt him again in payment for leaving them behind at last.

"D….Dalet…." Guimel's voice cut through the haze of panic that had enveloped his mind. _He sounds so worried…like he doesn't care that I just hurt him._ The brunette swallowed; his throat suddenly felt dry. Those memories were of days long gone—he wasn't supposed to let them control him like that now! That man, though, that dark-haired man with the crooked smile still had power over him.

"Dalet?

please say something," Guimelmurmured worriedly—it was obvious that it was taking a good deal of energy for him to raise his voice.

"I-I'm okay," Dalet closed his eyes, "I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry I seem…s-so u-uptight, as you put it. I-it's not my fault, Guimel. I-I'm sorry I…h-hurt your shoulder. D-didn't mean to…"

"H-hey, it's okay," Dalet flinched as he felt the other Slayer's good arm slid gently around his waist, and then Guimel's fluffy hair was pressed gently against his neck. Apparently, he was leaning his head against Dalet's back. _Don't you dare think about any of that right now—this's Guimel,_ the brunette told himself, gritting his teeth, _Guimel won't hurt you—he's your friend. He's just trying to stay warm. He…he doesn't know._

"Dalet?" The brunette sighed at the plaintive sound to Guimel's voice—he seemed so worried, when he should be the one they were concerned over.

Telling himself that it was only Guimel once more, Dalet reached up his shaking left hand and placed it atop Guimel's where it held gently around his waist, "D-don't worry—I'm okay."

"Oh…w-well, I was actually….m-more asking…" Dalet could hear the sheepish smile in his friend's voice, as the fluffy-haired boy finished, "I was _going_ to ask, why _are_ you so uptight? I-if it's not your fault…whose is it?"

Dalet sighed.

"Th-that's the…secret I s-said I'd tell you. I-I'll still say it…i-if you want to know, b-because I said I would." _Damn me and my sense of honor…why the hell did I ever have to promise such a thing, anyway? …I did it to make him feel better…I-I'll just have to explain it shortly. D-don't go...into any detail._

He felt Guimel nod against his back. "I-I'd like that. But…only if you want to, Dalet."

Dalet sighed, "I…w-well, I'll st-still tell you, but…p-please…" _Please what?_ He asked himself rather sadly, _If he recoils in disgust, that's his right!_ _You still do, yourself…_ He cleared his throat, "I-it's bad. Are you…s-sure you want to know?"

Guimel murmured back earnestly, "I w-won't think any less of you. Go ahead."

The brunette closed his eyes, again fighting back the memories that tried to surface every time he realized once more that Guimel was so close to him, hugging him…breathing against his back.

"B-before we…w-were Dragon Slayers, w-we each lived….somewhere else," he began, and his voice shook from more than just the cold. Taking a deep and very icy breath, he forced the tremor in the words away somewhat as he continued, "I…worked at a tavern. I-I wasn't paid, except b-by the right to live….I was a slave."

"Oh…" Guimel whispered this, sounding as if it had been less horrifying a past than he'd expected. "A tavern slave…? I've never heard of those."

"No." Dalet sighed, "A…a pleasure slave."

As expected, there was a rather lengthy silence from Guimel. _He's probably horrified that he's touching me now,_ Dalet thought sadly, _Probably…wishing he were anywhere but here. Maybe he's wondering why Dilandau-sama would choose someone like me to be his Dragon Slayer—we're supposed to be elite, after all, and what kind of…_ He forced himself to end that thought, before he added what he'd intended to. Even thinking that would undoubtedly call forth more horrible memories.

After what seemed like forever, the brunette was surprised to hear Guimel whisper, "I-I'm so sorry….and all this time, I-I've been hugging you in my sleep, and….I'm sorry! I d-didn't know why it was…such a big deal to you… It must have m-made you remember so much horrible—gods, I'm sorry…"

"It's okay," Dalet sighed both in relief and sadness for the aching past, "You…y-you had no way of knowing. I-I don't blame you. That's….I just w-wanted to explain my actions. That's wh-why I'm so 'uptight'. I…can't handle b-being touched too much. I just…I-I guess I've been taught th-that it means something painful."

Guimel sighed, too. "I-I didn't know what I was saying when I called you that…I'm sorry." Pausing, his curiosity got the better of him again. "Er, sooo….how, if you hate being touched, c-can you stand Dilandau-sama slapping you all the time?"

"Oh," Dalet smiled faintly at this—it was just like Guimel to wonder such a thing, "I c-can take it…if I know it's _just_ going t-to be a slap. D-Dilandau-sama…he wouldn't d-do anything to me like…they used to." He bit his lip—the lump developing in his throat meant that he shouldn't talk anymore right now. _Don't even think—just sit here for now,_ he instructed himself. Absently, he noticed that the sounds of the battle had ceased—was it over?

Recalling the surface made him remember Guimel's injury, and that brought to his attention the fact that his friend hadn't spoken in some time.

"G-Guimel?" He opened his eyes, feeling no movement and hearing no response from the fluffy-haired boy. _Oh, no…no, no, he can't be…_ "Guimel!" he raised his voice somewhat, hoping to shock his friend awake if he was drifting off, whether to sleep or death.

There was no reply.

_He's dead. He's dead! H-how could…he just suddenly be dead? _A numbing kind of horror spread through Dalet, even as he pulled out of their huddling embrace to turn over and lay his friend on his back.

"Agh…." The cream-haired boy's pale green eyes suddenly slid open, and he grimaced, "D-Dalet, don't…m-move around s-so much…"

"Sorry," Dalet apologized, but his smile betrayed his relief. If Guimel had died under his care, he wasn't sure what he would've done…but it wouldn't have been something good or wise. "G-Guimel," he began, but was interrupted by a booming voice:

"Attention Dragon Slayer unit! This is your current commander speaking, Gatti Mashiro. Anyone who can hear me get back to base camp immediately—the battle is over! I repeat, return to base camp now—the Chalens have been defeated!"

It took the two some considerable effort to get back to their tents, but Dalet was determined that they hadn't survived the battle only to die from the conditions. Guimel was too weak to walk. When he saw this, Dalet didn't react as he might have in the past. He scooped his fluffy-haired friend right up into his arms, carrying him back to the rest of the unit.

Now that he'd told someone of his dark secret, it seemed that it didn't have so much sway over him anymore. Guimel hadn't rejected his friendship or help once he'd known…why should Dalet assume anyone else would? For that matter, who was to say that some other Dragon Slayer didn't have an even more painful past hidden away in their mind?

The brunette decided to ask and see, because Guimel had taught him today that sometimes it was good to have someone make you talk, and some things it was better to talk about than to try and ignore. Sometimes, it took being cold to realize how much warmth one had.

-The End

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AN: To any who read down this far, thank you! ) If you don't leave a review now, I'll never know you read it, but it's your choice. Even if you don't tell me what you think, I hope you enjoyed the fic! 


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